The Past Is Another Country

Sorry, I came in late yesterday from an international flight, and I got up early today, but have been chasing things dropped 3 weeks ago, and so…

And so, not even at home.  I am just back home, and sitting down to write something.  It seems pointless to do a serious post at this point.

So — I found the remnants of my brother’s and my SF collection from when I was single.  It has since dispersed to cousins and nephews, to my dad’s reading shelf (Heinlein) and my brother’s collection at his house.
What remains is the following, and I thought the pictures (and titles) would amuse you.



  1. Only knowing English well enough to read fluently I’ve always been fascinated by the experience of reading the “same” book in different languages. I’ve sat down with a dictionary and done my own translations of poetry and short sections of prose, but that’s not the same thing.

    Are there any particular experiences you could share of reading a book in English that you previously read in Portuguese? Is it the same thing, in your mind? Or is it more like reading a new book with the same story?

    1. Um… Some books were better in Portuguese due to what I assume were gifted translators (A. E. Van Vogt.) Heinlein reads better in English. Harry Turtledove’s translator should be taken out and shot in the back yard. I didn’t become a fan until I moved here.

      1. I have similar experiences with translated authors like Dumas and Verne. Every time I read a different edition of one of their books, it’s like a whole new novel.

  2. I didn’t realize how complex an SF book was until I tried to read it in another language.

  3. Yea! How encouraging to know that the books that you and your brother collected are continuing to be kept and read. Hopefully they are being enjoyed and opening eyes to possibilities as well.

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